


Museum Day

by rufousnmacska



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Manorian, dinosaurs and other cool shit, manorian au, probably lots of bad jokes and puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-01-24 11:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21337822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufousnmacska/pseuds/rufousnmacska
Summary: Dorian reluctantly helps out with his brother's class field trip, only to find out that he knows the tour guide.Manon tries to emulate her fun loving cousin, only to have a surprise show up at work.(from a tumblr request I received for a modern manorian au)
Relationships: Manon Blackbeak/Dorian Havilliard
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	1. Part 1

Dorian cringed and covered his ears as shrieking kids ran up the steps to the museum. They moved by him like water flowing around a rock and he wondered again why he’d agreed to be a field trip chaperone.

When he caught sight of his little brother laughing with his friends, his doubts vanished.

Hollin was still struggling with their father’s death. And with their newly arrived uncle who’d stepped in to take over as CEO. Having grown the family business to a sprawling, multi-national company, their father had become a greedy bastard. Dorian supposed it was necessary to reach that level of success. Still, the man had treated his sons relatively well. If withholding affection and attention was treating your children well.

Uncle Perrington made Dorian Sr. look like father of the year material. Hollin was certainly no angel, but no kid deserved the verbal lashings Perrington dealt out.

Dorian had one more semester of school and then he’d take Hollin and leave. In the meantime, chaperoning his brother’s class trip to the museum was the least he could do.

A teacher started to form the kids into groups and Dorian peered through the revolving door to the main entrance. The building housed both a natural history museum and an art museum. As a fifth-year architecture student, he’d spent some time in the art wings, but had never ventured into the other side. All those bones and stuffed animals never appealed to him. The kids’ excitement was infectious though, and he found himself eager to get started.

Once within the towering entry hall, Dorian took his group aside to wait for a tour guide and then buried his head in a map of the building. When Hollin and his friends became suddenly and uncharacteristically quiet, he looked up to see what had caused it.

His eyes met those of the guide, and as one, their jaws dropped in awkward recognition. 

*****

“Why can’t I buy you a beer?”

The dark-haired princeling seemed to have a problem with her getting her own drink. Even if Manon hadn’t known he was a Havilliard – probably a lesser known cousin or something – his clothes pegged him for a rich boy. Gray pants and a blazer - who the hell wore a blazer to go out on a Saturday night? - and short curls that looked too messy to be anything but carefully arranged. Some spoiled brat out with his friend, looking for cheap booze and easy hook-ups in the bad part of town.

She glanced over to where Asterin was holding his friend against the wall, kissing him while his hands groped her ass. With an annoyed sigh, she had to admit their plan seemed to be going well for one of them. Turning back, she found he’d moved his bar stool an inch or two closer to her.

People hitting on her was common, and something she usually dismissed with a look that was scary enough to send them running. Being hit on here though… It didn’t happen. Ever. Most of the bar’s customers were family or people she’d known half of her life, making them family all the same. That was probably why Asterin had practically launched herself at that guy. He was fresh blood.

_Just like the princeling_, Manon caught herself thinking.

The moment the two had walked in, his blue eyes were locked on her. Manon had turned away, not interested. But a little later she’d turned to see him smiling at some joke his friend had made. Which lead to her getting caught staring. Which lead to Asterin abandoning her for the tall blonde and opening the door for this discussion over who was buying the drinks.

“Because I said so.” His grin widened at the growl in her voice and Manon had to look away before she got thoroughly trapped in it. “Besides,” she returned the grin, adding a knife sharp edge all her own. “I’m not drinking tonight.” She surprised herself by almost telling him she had to work early the next day. But he didn’t need to know that. 

“As it happens”, he said, reaching back to get his glass of soda,” neither am I. So let me amend my offer.” He made a show of looking her up and down. But not in a creepy way. It was thoughtful and a little exaggerated and she had to bite back a smile. “You look like a Shirley Temple kind of girl…”

“Oh my god,” Manon groaned, unable to keep from laughing. And before she could stop him, he was ordering one for her.

*****

It was her. The white-haired witch from that bar he’d never been able to find again.

Chaol had called her a witch after hearing about that night. How else to explain Dorian’s obsession to find her. Or Gavriel never shutting up about the blonde he’d hooked up with.

“You’re both idiots,” Chaol had said. Only to be smacked on the arm by his girlfriend.

“They’re bewitched,” Yrene said. “Not idiots. I think it’s romantic!”

Chaol just shook his head. “So those women were witches. That doesn’t mean these two,” he pointed at his roommates, “aren’t idiots.”

Dorian had tried to retrace their steps. He remembered the parking garage they’d parked in, but from there, he’d had no luck. Gavriel, too drunk that night to recall getting there, was useless in the search. But he helped, being just as eager as Dorian to find it and the blonde again. 

And now, here she was. About to lead him and a bunch of kids on a tour of the museum.

“Manon.” When he looked up from her name tag and found her still staring at him, eyes blazing gold, he allowed himself one self-satisfied smirk. She’d insisted on no names that night. “I’m Dorian,” he said, enjoying the sight of her reddening cheeks. But then her eyes flashed wide for a second in understanding and he wished no one had ever heard of his family.

“Can we see the T-Rex or are we just gonna stare at each other all day?” one of the students yelled, causing the group to break out into laughs and a cheer of agreement.

Smoothing out her oversized museum shirt, Manon cleared her throat and began calling out rules for the tour. Dorian listened dutifully, trying to ignore the memories of that night playing through his mind.

*****

Alcohol would be the perfect excuse. But unfortunately, there was no excuse for the dancing. Manon was not someone who danced. Especially here, in her father’s bar.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. When they were teenagers, she and her gang of cousins and friends would sing and dance to whatever cheesy 80’s songs were still working on the old jukebox in the corner. But that wasn’t really dancing.

She’d never slow danced with someone before.

After an hour or two of flirting and laughing, and another god awful Shirley Temple, the princeling had convinced her to dance with him. What was she supposed to do when Asterin changed the song midway through? She couldn’t just walk away when the music slowed. That would be rude.

So here she was, dancing in the arms of a Havilliard while another slow song began, trying not to think about how good he smelled. Or felt. Or might taste.

Asterin and her blonde were dancing too, but not seriously. They were swirling each other around, paying no attention to the music. She always admired that ability of Asterin’s to just not give a fuck and have fun.

They’d both had a similarly shitty upbringing, so Manon often wondered why she was incapable of letting go like that. Then she’d remember how much more Asterin had suffered, remembered that it was as much a defense mechanism as anything. She of course had her own defenses as a result of growing up with their grandmother. Once they’d escaped, and she’d found her father, Manon had thought she’d let those walls down a bit.

Having her first slow dance at the age of 26 might be a sign that she hadn’t.

When the song ended, she looked up into gemstone eyes and decided she wanted to have some fun of her own.

“You want to get out of here?”

*****

This was a nightmare. Truly awful. She didn’t know how her day could get any worse. _This_ was why she never did anything fun. _This_ was how her luck worked. Of course the one guy she has anonymous sex with would show up at work for a goddamn tour with a bunch of kids.

_And, I’m wearing the ugliest damn clothes I own_, she thought miserably, leading the group up to the second floor.

The kids seemed to be enjoying themselves at least.

Manon was not overly fond of children. Usually they were fine. But more often than not, they had a way of seeing right through you and blurting out whatever secret they’d uncovered. Leading school groups was a price she was willing to pay for the experience and connections she was gaining at the museum. And she’d learned that if she kept talking, kept asking questions, kept them entertained… The next thing she knew, it was over.

This group was doing well, answering her questions, asking a lot of their own. It would have been perfect. If not for the princeling - basically a true prince she knew now - whose eyes followed her everywhere and saw every blush that crossed her cheeks and every glance she stole in his direction.

Directing them all into a room, she ignored Dorian as he passed her. After everyone was inside she began to talk about the displays of rocks and minerals lining the dark walls. This exhibit was one of her favorites because of the reactions it got. With the T-rex and triceratops skeletons just downstairs, people gasping at a bunch of rocks was always a highlight of giving a tour. The second she flipped off the main lights and hit a switch to activate the UV lights, the kids oohed and aahed at the brilliant reds and greens and blues of the fluorescent minerals. The UV moved from rock to rock, spotlighting each one in turn. Manon was supposed to name them as they were featured, but she usually didn’t, letting them just enjoy the show.

It was mostly dark, so she risked a glance towards Dorian. He was standing with a boy she assumed was his brother, even though they looked nothing alike. The smile he wore was reminiscent of the one that had ensnared her that night. A smile that seemed to come so easily, so often. A smile she didn’t think herself capable of. When he turned in her direction, she brought the lights back up and lead them to the next exhibit.

*****

Being Gavriel’s designated driver was never fun. It didn’t happen often since he rarely drank. But that was the problem. He was a lightweight when it came to alcohol, and a heavyweight when it came to lugging his ass home. Chaol had once thrown out his back trying to help the guy up the stairs to their apartment.

So when they’d started the night with Chaol bowing out, and Gavriel needing to unwind from exams, Dorian was expecting an evening of babysitting and boredom. Even Gavriel’s insistence that they find bars in sections of the city they’d never been to before wasn’t enough to rouse his interest.

Until they’d found this place. Until he’d seen _her_. Standing at the bar in jeans and a sweater, her silvery white hair falling down her back in a messy braid. Blood red lips and black nails. The exact opposite of what most women he knew wore on a night out. And she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on. The thought had made him laugh. It was such a cliche. But even cliches could be true sometimes.

And now she was pulling him out a back door and down an alley.

Dorian was stone cold sober. So why did he feel like he was floating? Why was his brain buzzing and his heart pounding? She glanced back at him and smiled as she led him onto another street.

_Oh_, he thought, grinning back. _That’s why_.

There was nothing in his system except her.

They stopped at a door and before he could try to figure out where they were, she had it unlocked and pulled him inside. And before he could say anything, she was kissing him.

It took every ounce of self control he possessed, but he needed to ask. So breaking apart from the softest lips he’d ever kissed, he said, “Wait. What’s your name?“

With a smirk that set him on fire, she said, “No names. Just fun.” Then, more seriously, she asked, “Do you have a condom?”

He pulled a couple out of his pocket to show her and she rolled her eyes, still smiling. But then he hesitated. As much as he wanted to know her name, Dorian realized that if she told him, he’d have to give his. He could lie, but he didn’t want to do that with her. And if this one night was all she was willing to give him, he’d take it. On her terms.

“I’m at your command,” he said, losing his breath at the heat that overtook her at his words.

“I’ll try to be gentle,” she teased as she took his lower lip between her teeth. Dorian groaned and lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. “Down the hall. First door on the left,” she said, sounding out of breath too.

As he carried her to the bedroom, Dorian uttered a brief, silent thank you to Gavriel for dragging him out tonight.

*****

“Have dinner with me?”

Manon’s eyes slid over to him as the kids ran off into the gift shop, where the tours always ended. They were left alone. No distractions, no excuses. 

Dorian knew he was probably crossing a line. He’d done his best to pay attention as she’d led them through the various halls and galleries, but there were a few times when she’d caught him watching her and not the exhibits. She’d been flustered once or twice by him though. Which was why he decided to throw his luck to the wind and just ask.

“What was your favorite exhibit?” she asked, watching the kids as the other groups from their school joined them.

“Excuse me?” That was not the answer he’d been expecting.

“Was there a certain dinosaur you liked? Or one of the dioramas? Maybe something in the Hall of Minerals?” Manon finally turned to look at him, her face expressionless. “What was your favorite part?” She repeated the question a little more slowly, enunciating each word.

He hesitated, sensing a trap. The answer forming on the tip of his tongue - _You, of course_ \- would undoubtedly spring it and send him limping home with his pride in ruins.

“Uh…” He fumbled through his brain for something, anything, as he realized he’d been silent for too long. “The dinosaurs. I liked the giant winged ones.” It wasn’t a lie, they were his favorites. And not just because her voice seemed to grow more excited while talking about them. For some reason, they seemed more unbelievable than the other fossil skeletons, more fantastical and amazing. But under the pressure of her piercing stare, there was no way he’d remember any of their names.

Giving nothing away to signify if he’d given a good reply, she simply asked, “The raptors?”

Dorian tried not to sound relieved. “Yeah, the raptors. They were cool. Frightening as hell, but cool.” Manon made a disappointed sigh and he knew instantly that he’d fucked up.

“Raptors are birds of prey. Or small carnivorous dinosaurs. Like Jurassic Park.” She curved a finger that sported an exceptionally sharp nail. “The giant flying ones are pterosaurs. Which are reptiles. If you’d been paying attention, maybe you would have known that.” Stepping closer to him, her voice soft and lethal, she said, “Perhaps if you could answer my question properly, my answer wouldn’t be no.”

Before he could say anything to defend himself, Hollin rushed over and grabbed his hand. As his brother pulled him towards baskets of fake fossils for sale, Dorian glanced back at Manon. She was basking in the satisfaction of tricking him. But there was something else there besides the smooth as cream smile. Her eyes were blazing with a challenge. 

He was pulled away again and when he looked back, she was gone. As Hollin picked out his souvenirs, Dorian decided the two of them should start coming to the museum more often. His brother enjoyed it, and there was the extra benefit of getting Hollin out of their toxic home. And he clearly needed to bone upon his dinosaur names. 

To be continued…


	2. Part 2

“Don’t give yourself a headache.”

Manon looked up from the microscope and rubbed her eyes, giving them a moment to adjust. The preparation work on this fossil was so delicate she needed the scope to see properly. Fossil prep was tedious and could definitely cause headaches, but she enjoyed it. Seeing something spring to life out of the rock matrix was rewarding, even if it took a long time. And the work was quiet, meditative. The only bad part was that she wasn’t getting paid. It was her day off yet she was at the museum, volunteering in this lab for the boost to her university applications.

“I’m almost done for the day,” she told Ghislaine.

Asterin had met Ghislaine a couple of years ago. Manon was still unsure how, but when her cousin found out Ghislaine was a paleontologist at the museum, she’d brought her to the next Blackbeak family dinner. It took almost a year for her to get Manon a job there, what with reduced funding and not many openings. Once she got in, Manon made sure to spread the word that she wanted to learn anything and everything. Most of her spare time was spent helping out in labs and with exhibits.

“Don’t you have to work tomorrow? Like, _work_ work?” Ghislaine asked, standing up to stretch. She rubbed her eyes too and groaned. “I don’t know what’s worse. The scope or the computer.”

“At least I don’t need reading glasses yet, old lady,” Manon teased, trying to get a few more particles free from the ammonite.

“Oh hey,” Ghislaine said innocently. “Look at this.”

Manon turned to find Ghislaine giving her the finger and she snorted. “I’m only a few years behind you. Soon you can throw it back in my face.”

“I will. But for now, I’m leaving. Which means you are too. It’s Friday and I need a drink. What’s Asterin doing tonight? Want to have her meet us?”

Manon finished the section she was working on and cleaned up her area. “I think she’s free.” As Ghislaine texted Asterin, Manon gathered her things. She caught her reflection in a glass case and frowned. Quickly, so Ghislaine wouldn’t see, she redid her braid and told herself it was because it was falling in her face.

A few minutes later, as they walked through the main dinosaur hall, she repeated that excuse in her head. But it didn’t matter. She knew it was a lie. She knew it the moment she saw Dorian sitting in front of an exhibit at the other end of the room. The moment her heart jumped against her chest. 

It had been a few weeks since that nightmare of a tour. Only, it hadn’t really been a nightmare. Another lie she told herself. She couldn’t get him out of her head. Hadn’t been able to, really, since the night they’d first met. But seeing him here, in the light of day, brought him front and center in her mind.

Since then, Dorian had been back to the museum eight times. Sometimes with his brother, sometimes on his own. Not that she was counting. The first time he’d just waved hello from afar, not coming to talk to her. And that’s how it went, her disappoint growing with each sighting. Whether she was giving a tour or not, if she saw him, he waved and went about his business. What his business here was, she didn’t know.

“Are you okay?”

Manon realized she’d stopped to stare at him.

“I’ve seen him around a lot lately,” Ghislaine said, casting an appreciative eye towards Dorian. “Do you know him?”

“Yes,” she admitted, though she refused to go into detail when Ghislaine pressed her. His back was to them, so she could have easily kept walking. Instead, she said, “You go ahead. Tell Asterin I’ll call her tomorrow.”

Ghislaine very politely said nothing, but her devilish grin made Manon laugh. “Okay. Have a good night.”

She waited til her friend was out of sight and started towards Dorian. He was sitting on a bench, bent over something in his lap. As she approached, he sat up and stared at the skeleton on display in front of him.

“Deinonychus,” she said, by way of greeting. “The velociraptor in Jurassic Park was based off this guy.”

Dorian twisted slowly around, his face comically bemused. “Was nothing in that movie accurate? No feathers. Fake velociraptor. The T. rex chasing down a car. Everything I knew is a lie.”

With a heavy sigh, that didn’t cover up her laugh, Manon sat down next to him. She was surprised to find a sketchbook in his lap and a bag overflowing with art supplies on the floor next to him. He winked and said hello then went back to his drawing.

The page held different renditions of the skeleton, rough outlines of various poses and movements that he’d imagined from the skeleton. But he was working on a full color reproduction of the dinosaur as it would have looked in real life. Pulling a bright green colored pencil from the bunch he clasped in one hand, he started to add foliage around the deinonychus.

Manon watched, silent and amazed by his talent. She had seen scientists make sketches of fossils and anatomy, but she didn’t know anyone who could bring a creature to life so easily. It looked effortless. Of course she knew that it wasn’t. Even for someone born with natural artistic talent, it took plenty of time and hard work to get good and stay good.

Noticing his hand had stopped, she looked up to find him smiling at her. _Oh no_, she thought._ I’m screwed_. She almost laughed out loud. _Too late, that already happened_.

“So what is your favorite exhibit?” she asked, hoping the catch in her voice wasn’t that obvious.

He looked at her for a second before saying, “Currently I have four, and I can’t decide between them. Maybe, dinner in exchange for your professional opinion on which one I should choose?”

Manon glanced back to his sketchbook. It was large and worn, and it looked like he was more than half way through it. “Deal,” she said. “Only if you show me the rest of your work.”

A grin lit up his face and she couldn’t help but return it. “Oh, that was already included in the dinner,” he said, bending to stuff everything into his bag. She wondered how anything survived the process.

“So you woo women with your dinosaur drawings?” she teased.

“Only one woman,” he said, giving her a heated look that she felt deep down through her chest. Then he leaned in, conspiratorially, and said, “I think I might have a chance with her.”

Manon closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Let’s go, witchling,” he said, pulling her up. “I know a good burger place a few streets down.”

*****

The restaurant wasn’t far, and even though that placed it in the central part of the city, it had an air of seclusion Dorian liked. It didn’t hurt that Gavriel’s brother Lorcan owned it, ensuring some amount of privacy. 

It hadn’t happened to him often, but just one encounter with the city’s paparazzi had been too many. Dorian learned quickly how to avoid them - he rarely ever discussed anything important with his mother. She and her friends were of the opinion that only the lower classes bothered with trashy gossip sites. Of course, he was almost positive her friends were the ones selling their secrets. His mother knew it. There was no way she couldn’t. But as long as she had money to buy things and travel wherever she wanted in luxury, she didn’t care. Her bank account was her main interest these days.

The streets were crowded and it was starting to rain, so he and Manon walked quickly to the restaurant. Lorcan wasn’t behind the bar, but Dorian knew the waiter so they got a booth in the back corner. After he took their drink orders, they sat in awkward silence.

“So when did you-”

“How did you-”

They both spoke at once, and then stopped. Dorian motioned for her to go ahead.

“How did you learn to draw so well? Are you a professional artist?”

He pulled the sketchbook he’d been using out of his bag and handed it to her. “As promised,” he said, smiling as she eagerly began flipping through the pages. “I took art classes in high school, and I’ve had a couple in college. But I’m in my final year of architecture. So, not a professional.”

Not looking up, she shrugged and said, “That’s artistic. I’d say it qualifies.”

He couldn’t help feeling a burst of pride at her expression each time she turned a page. Most of the sketches were a mess. Quick impressions of displays and objects from the museum - an assortment of skulls, artifacts, taxidermy, and sketches of the building’s architecture. Only the last few pages held more complete drawings done in color instead of pencil. But she took her time, examining every detail.

“I recognize almost everything in here,” she said, her eyes finally leaving the book to meet his. “This is amazing. You’re really talented.”

“Thanks,” Dorian said, feeling a slight warmth creep over his cheeks. He was used to receiving compliments. As a Havilliard, he’d learned at a young age that most of them were fake, usually given with the hope of some kind of favor in return. Manon looked and sounded so genuine, and it felt so refreshing, that he wondered when he’d last been given real praise.

When they ordered food, the waiter made the mistake of questioning Manon’s choice of medium rare for her burger, thinking she might be grossed out by any blood. The look she gave the poor guy was beyond lethal. He hoped to never be on the receiving end of that stare. or, maybe a part of him did, he thought, realizing his pulse was racing. The waiter left and she turned to see him holding back laughter.

“What? I like red meat,” she said, still annoyed. “The bloodier, the better.”

Dorian held his hands up. “I didn’t say anything. Besides, I-”

Just then, his phone started to ring. It was the ringtone he had for Hollin, otherwise, he would have ignored it. And since Hollin only texted and rarely called...

“Sorry, I should get this,” he said. “It’s my brother.”

“Sure,” she said, sensing his tension and moving to stand. “Do you want me to give you some privacy?”

As he answered, he shook his head and she sat back down. “Hollin? What do you-”

Before he could finish, Hollin started rattling on so fast, Dorian could barely understand him. “Wait, slow down. I’m not hearing you.” He heard his brother inhale and exhale a few times. Manon was watching him with concern. “Okay, now tell me what’s happening? Are you alright?”

“Uncle Perrington,” Hollin said, making an effort to get the words out. “I got home late and ... he ... he must have been drinking and-”

“Where are you now?” Dorian asked, and he saw Manon grab her things, put his book in a bag and throw on her coat.

“I'm at Terran’s. I didn’t know where else to go. His house is the closest.” Hollin's words were starting to run together again.

“Okay. Deep breaths. Are his parents home?”

“Yeah. But... I don’t want to stay here.”

“Don’t worry,” Dorian said, giving Manon a look before they both stood and headed for the exit. “I’m on my way.”

Thankfully, he was parked close by, but he still ran, Manon right beside him. He didn’t think of telling her not to. All he could think of was Hollin. And how he should have taken his brother out of that house the moment his dad died. He should have fought to get his trust fund, should have done more to keep him safe.

When they got to his car, he expected to give her a quick apology and be on his way, but she went for the passenger side door.

“You don’t need to come,” he said, hesitating before getting in. This was already bad enough. He didn’t think he could handle her seeing the ugly truth behind his rich and famous family. But she only stared at him across the roof of the car, her fierce eyes giving him an answer. If he really wanted her to stay behind, she would. But she was willing to go. No matter what.

“Okay,” he said, and they both jumped in.

*****

Manon waited in the car while Dorian went inside the house - mansion - to get his brother. Her foot was tapping involuntarily, and she couldn’t stop her hands from fidgeting.

Dorian had said little on the ride here, but she could guess enough. The death of Dorian Sr., and how the man’s brother had taken over the company, was all over the news a few months back. And a person didn’t need to stay on top of things to know Perrington Havilliard was a prick. With the family money, he’d avoided a handful of white-collar criminal convictions, some DUIs. There were rumors he’d done worse, but nothing ever stuck.

Imagining what he might do to a kid wasn’t hard. That was something she knew first hand.

Luckily, it didn’t take long for them to come outside. Dorian stopped at the door to thank a woman who must be the friend’s mom. Hollin practically ran to the car and got in the back, not thinking anything of her sitting in the front seat. She stole a glance back at him, relieved to see that despite looking shaken, he seemed unharmed. At least, physically.

“Sorry I messed up your date,” he said.

Twisting around in her seat, she frowned, “Who said this was a date?” He smiled, as she’d hoped, and she could see a little of his older brother in the expression.

“Dorian did. He talks about you all the time.”

Feeling her cheeks flush hot, she turned away from him. “Oh he does? That sounds creepy.”

Hollin sat forward, worried he was messing things up for his brother. “No, not like that. Mostly he talks about the museum. He’d never been to the natural history part until my class trip. Just the art side. I think he really liked it. Not just because of you either.”

Manon laughed and Hollin relaxed, just as Dorian got in the car. Seeing their faces, he opened his mouth to ask something but Manon gave him a little shake of her head. He examined Hollin, then her.

Her face was heating again under his gaze, so she said, “Are you hungry Hollin? We didn’t eat yet.”

“Sure,” he said. His excitement fell as he remembered. “I don’t have my bag, or homework, or anything. You’re not taking me back there are you?”

“No,” Dorian said, pulling out of the driveway. “I’ll get your things tomorrow. You can stay with me tonight.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he swore and said, “Gavriel’s parents are here this weekend. My apartment is packed. We can just get a hotel room. Then figure things out next week. Okay?”

Hollin agreed, seeming to believe the cheeriness Dorian was projecting. But she saw through it. It reminded her of Asterin. A few years older than her, Asterin had acted this way countless times after their grandmother had gone on one of her rampages. Dorian caught her staring at him and his brows dipped in concern.

“I’ve got room. You both can stay with me,” she blurted out, surprising everyone, herself included, with the offer. Hollin immediately agreed while Dorian quietly tried to turn her down. “It’s nothing fancy, but it might be better than a hotel. We can order pizza.”

That was a lie. They could afford a penthouse suite for god’s sake. And Dorian had seen her place. He knew her reasoning was bullshit. But after asking several times if she was sure, he relented.

He thanked her with what was probably the sweetest, most genuine smile she’d ever seen. Heart racing, she made herself stare straight ahead.

“Can we get pineapple?” Hollin asked. Dorian groaned loudly, and the brothers began what seemed to be a longstanding argument.

The bickering ended when she interrupted, “Yes, you can get pineapple." Dorian shot her a wounded look as Hollin celebrated in the back seat. “My house, my rules,” she said, totally forgetting what they’d done there. And what rules she’d made him follow that night. His smirk brought it all back though.

*****

Hollin had fallen asleep on Manon’s couch shortly after dinner. Dorian hadn’t asked him for many details aside from whether he was hurt. He’d managed to get out before Perrington could physically stop him, but the kid was scared. As he watched his brother sleep, Dorian’s anger, at himself as much as at their uncle, was starting to flood back.

Manon sat down at the table with a beer and handed him one.

Tonight, she’d been incredible. Not just by going with him, but letting them stay here, distracting Hollin and making him feel... normal. Like a kid. Not some fragile thing to be pitied or talked down to. It made him wonder if she’d had to deal with something like this before. The thought didn’t sit well and he pushed it from his mind.

“So, tomorrow...” she prompted.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Tomorrow, I will talk to Hollin and call a lawyer.”

“For custody? Don’t you already have one? A lawyer I mean.”

“A family lawyer,” he said. “I’ve known him most of my life, but I wouldn’t say that I trust him. And yes, for custody. I should have done it way before now.” He tore at the label on the beer bottle. “I thought it could wait. That we could wait until I graduated. But that was stupid. And selfish.”

Manon rested her chin in her hand. “You don’t have your own money.”

Dorian laughed, grim and humorless. “Nope. I have some. No more than most people though.” She arched an eyebrow. “Okay,” he said. “More than some. But not enough that I could live on my own.”

“In my defense,” she said, glancing around the apartment she lived in alone, “this building is shitty and thankfully, this neighborhood has been overlooked by the gentrification brigade.” She tipped her beer at him. “But I understand what you’re saying.”

He smiled, enjoying the easy way they could talk to each other. “My friend Chaol’s dad is a lawyer. He’s a bit of an asshole, but I think he’ll help. And I’ve got some money, but my trust fund won’t be available for another couple of years. I’m hoping to find a loophole.”

She looked across the room to where Hollin slept. “Well, for what it’s worth, I hope you do.”

Before he could think, Dorian reached across to take Manon’s hand. She didn’t pull away, but her eyes flared. He held on, long enough to say, “Thank you.” He opened his mouth to go on, but he didn’t know what more he could say. “Thank you,” he repeated.

Manon’s face softened and he let go of her hand. She bit her lip and asked, “So you never told me what your favorite exhibits are.”

“Ah,” he said, “I thought I’d gotten out of the inquisition, but I guess not.” She offered him the remaining pineapple pizza in exchange for not answering, but he passed it up.

“Well, I wasn’t lying about the pterosaurs. You could probably tell from the sketchbook. I’m not sure which of them specifically. They all scare the shit out of me. But when I’m there I can’t stop staring at them.”

“Yeah, their size is a little disconcerting,” she agreed. 

“And them walking on all fours?” He cringed, took a drink and said, “I like them, but in the way someone who’s not into heights might like roller coasters. The whale exhibit was good. And I also liked the Age of Mammals hall. The irish elk actually might be my favorite. I know everyone goes for the dinosaurs, but the mammals are just as interesting.“

Manon’s lips twitched and she nodded approvingly. “And the fourth?” she asked. Dorian’s eyes widened with surprise. “You said there were four,” she added.

“I did.” He didn’t hide his pleasure that she’d remembered. “The entomology wing. The...” he paused, thinking, then said, “the lepidoptera.”

Manon laughed quietly. “After those others I would not have guessed the butterfly exhibit.”

“Would you like to know my favorite rock?”

“I’ve created a monster,” she teased, standing and putting her beer bottle in the sink.

He joined her and there was an awkward silence as they realized it was late. And Hollin was on the couch. And she had one bed.

“I’ll sleep out here,” he said, ignoring the ungentlemanly voice in his head telling him to wait and see if she offered to share. “You have to work tomorrow,” he added. “And I think it’d be better for me to stay near him.”

She gave him a little smile, and it made her whole face light up. The sight of her - so beautiful and tender - revived that voice and he was about to reconsider when she pointed into the living room. “There are extra blankets in the chest. And pillows are on the couch.”

Before he could say goodnight, she placed her hand on his chest and stood on her tiptoes. The kiss was feather light on his lips. The opposite of the kisses they’d shared that previous night. Kisses that were passionate and hungry and breathless, as if time was rushing by them. Kisses that had been perfect for the moment.

This kiss, soft and plush and chaste, was perfect too. And far more intimate than all the others.

“Goodnight,” she said, then disappeared down the hallway.

“Goodnight, witchling.” 

To be continued...


	3. Part 3

The bar was unexpectedly full for a Thursday night and when Dorian opened the door, several people had to step aside to let him through. Loud and boisterous, cheering and booing as one, the crowd was focused solely on whatever championship game was on the big screen. Rifthold never made it into the playoffs of any sports, so their presence in the final tonight meant the bar was packed and Manon was working.

Too busy pouring beers, she didn’t see him come in. But the man working beside her did. He hadn’t been here the night Dorian first met Manon. His long, dark hair was pulled back and Dorian could see all the features he’d passed on to his daughter, including his unusual golden eyes. Those eyes were inspecting him now, taking in the expensive clothes and styled hair. Dorian smiled politely, trying to interpret the look, but the man was inscrutable. Someone ordered a drink and Dorian finally escaped her father’s gaze.

As he waded through the crowd to where Manon was working, he spotted her cousin. She was walking towards him, arms full of glasses and dishes, when she stopped and pointed her chin at him. “Art guy, right?” 

“I’m Dorian,” he said, yelling slightly to be heard over the noise, and hoping to disguise his disappointment that she didn’t already know his name. “I’d shake your hand, but that’s not a good idea. Can I help?”

She huffed a thankful breath and held her arms out for him to take a stack of pint glasses. “I’m Asterin. It’s nice to meet you. Officially, I mean. Unofficially, I know everything about you.” She grinned and winked before moving past him towards the kitchen. 

Dorian found himself smiling too as he followed her. Manon finally saw him as he passed the end of the bar. Her puzzled expression at his appearance was, for lack of a better word, so adorable, that he wished he could have taken a picture. He paused before the swinging door and shouted, “Asterin recruited me.”

Manon glanced over at her father, who was waiting on people at the other end of the bar. 

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked, more quietly this time. He should have called before showing up out of the blue. Although they’d talked often, they’d only seen each other once since she’d let him and his brother stay at her place. Dorian’s efforts to free himself and Hollin from his uncle’s grasp had wreaked havoc on his already hectic class schedule. And her work schedule was just as bad. But after the interview had gone so well, she was the first person he wanted to tell.

“No,” she said. “The game is almost over and things should quiet down soon.”

“Okay. I’ll stay out of the way.”

With a fearsome point of her finger, she said, “Don’t let Asterin boss you around!”

Dorian gave her a look saying it was way too late for that and headed into the kitchen. Asterin was instantly there, plucking the glasses from his grasp and setting them in the dishwasher. When it was loaded, she turned around to examine him.

“I can turn around,” he joked. “Mr. Blackbeak gave me the once over when I came in, but he only saw the front.”

Asterin laughed and looked as if she was going to say sure. But instead, she said, “Mr. Crochan. Manon uses her mother’s name. I wouldn’t want you to screw things up right off the bat.”

“Oh shit, thank you,” he said. “That would’ve been bad.”

“Nah, he’s easy to get along with actually,” she said. “Just protective of Manon.” Her eyes narrowed and she pointed at him. “We all are. So, princeling or not, you better not hurt her.”

Solemnly, he said, “I promise.”

Asterin gave him another once over before declaring, “Okay, you’ve passed my test.”

Laughing, he asked, “How did I do that?”

“How _will_ I do that,” she corrected, looking pointedly at the dishwasher, then back at him. 

Dorian found a clean spot to put his portfolio down, then joined her. “What do I do?”

“First, you need an apron. I’d hate to mess up your pretty suit.”

*****

Asterin had been running back and forth to the kitchen like a mad woman, going in with dirty dishes and returning immediately with clean ones to put behind the bar. She’d refused to answer Manon’s questions about where Dorian had disappeared to, or what she’d saddled him with.

When she finally had a free moment, she headed back into the kitchen. Dorian was standing at the sink, working his way through a stack of plates. The kitchen wasn’t big enough to offer a full menu. Or even a half menu. But her dad had partnered with the pizza place next door so their food could be ordered here. 

“I thought I told you not to let Asterin suck you into this,” Manon said. She’d silently walked up behind him, and at the sound of her voice, so close to his ear, Dorian flinched and dropped a plate on the floor.

He swore and picked up the pieces, only to find her grinning at him. “You did that on purpose!”

Ignoring the accusation, she asked, “How did it go?”

Tossing the broken dish into the trash and wiping his hands on his damp, dirty apron, he said, “You are looking at the new intern for Adarlan Architects.”

Before she could congratulate him, her father stuck his head in the door. “Manon, get out here!” When he saw Dorian, and what he was doing, Tristan gave a brief nod - of greeting or approval, she couldn’t tell - then disappeared. 

On her way back out, Manon said, “We’ll have to celebrate. Something better than washing dishes in a bar.”

The next day, when he wanted to go to the museum, she wondered if she’d made a mistake in leaving the method of celebration up to him. She loved the museum, but she’d been volunteering a lot in addition to her normal hours. This was her first day off in a long time that she’d planned to avoid the place.

Coming through the rotating door, Dorian took her hand and pulled her to the left. Towards the entrance to the art museum. 

“Have you ever been through this side?”

“Once. For the employee orientation,” Manon admitted, expecting disappointment or annoyance. But his face lit up with excitement.

“Well then, can I interest you in a tour?”

“It’s your party,” she said. “But, I don’t know any tour guides who hold the visitor’s hand.”

Leading her into the first gallery, Dorian smirked. “Things are done a little differently on my tours.” 

“I suppose I’ll need to choose a favorite piece?” Glancing around the room, all she saw were a bunch of dark, drab paintings hanging on the walls. Boring portraits of old men, groups of old men, and more old men. A few naked women. Cynically, she wondered if any of the artwork would be of naked men.

“Your grimace tells me the Xandrian style is not for you.”

Heat radiated over her cheeks and she cringed. “Was it that obvious?”

Dorian tilted his head and stared at her. The flush of her skin grew hotter under his gaze and Manon wanted to turn away, but she crossed her arms and stayed put.

Finally, he said, “I think I know what you’ll like. But in the interest of giving a proper tour, we’re not skipping things. Figuring out what you dislike and why can help you better appreciate the things you do like.”

Manon knew nothing about art, and had never been interested in it. During her orientation tour of this wing, she’d ignored most of what was said, relegating it to mindless nonsense. Give her the concrete science of bones and minerals and anatomy over the ever-changing interpretations and feelings of art any day. Though, paleontology involved its own kind of interpretation. Yes, it was science. But unless someone developed a time machine, there was no way to be 100% certain of what these animals looked like or how they lived. So, in some ways, science demanded just as much creativity as the arts. 

As Dorian began to talk about the paintings in the first gallery, she tried to keep an open mind and follow his advice, thinking about what aspects she didn’t like and what, if any, she did.

*****

The route through the art museum had been circuitous and he’d doubled back through a few galleries. But Dorian wanted to save the exhibit he thought Manon might appreciate for last. While she’d enjoyed some of the sculptures, not a surprise based on her preferred subject, she hadn’t expressed much interest in the broad collection of paintings. Her eyes widened at a few, but he was counting on the next room to blow her away.

Letting her walk in first, Dorian held his breath, waiting for her reaction.

The room was smaller than most, displaying works by a single artist. Darkly painted walls and focused lighting gave off an air of neutral elegance that worked well with the art. Huge landscape paintings using bright colors and simple strokes surrounded them: towering mountain peaks glowing in the sunrise, sinuous rivers meandering through wide valleys, and skies filled with billowing clouds that seemed to be alive with movement. They possessed a wild, windy sort of beauty that he had come to associate with her. 

Trying not to stare too intently, Dorian watched Manon slowly walk around the room. She stopped in front of each painting. Ever so faintly, her neutral mask was starting to break. But before he could claim victory, she turned a corner and didn’t come back. 

He found her in front of one of the smaller pieces, and the only one with figures. At the foot of soaring, snow-capped mountains, a man was leaving his home, leaving a woman and child behind. Eyes wide and glistening, Manon looked at it for a very long time. Dorian retreated to a bench, leaving her alone with the painting and her thoughts. 

When she finally joined him, he made no mention of the tears ready to spill down her cheeks, and made no move to hug her, even though he desperately wanted to. 

“I never knew my mother,” she said, speaking so softly he had to lean closer. “She died when I was born and I was raised by my grandmother. I didn’t even know my father until I was 16.”

Unable to resist, Dorian slowly placed a hand on her back. It was a light touch, until she sank backwards an inch or two, resting against it.

“My grandmother was...” she shivered before continuing. “She was not a good person. She framed my dad for dealing drugs and managed to get custody of me. But she told me I was unwanted. Abandoned. And it was her bad luck to raise me. She...” Manon paused, then took a deep, steadying breath. “She was very good at finding your weakest points, digging her claws in, and not letting go. And while she was feeding me lies, she was telling my father I was ashamed of him, that I wanted nothing to do with him. Asterin had it worse.” She stopped abruptly, perhaps realizing how much truth she’d just laid bare to him. “We survived it somehow. When I tracked down my dad and learned the truth, Asterin and I left and came here. His family took us in.” She smiled then and added, “It’s a big family. Lots of cousins.”

Dorian said nothing, trying to take it all in. Trying to comprehend how difficult it was for her to speak about, how much he appreciated her trust. Trying not to angrily ask about the grandmother who’d abused her. 

Manon wiped her face dry. “She died two years ago. When we heard, Asterin and I planned to celebrate. But we just cried.” She faced him, her eyes downcast. “We just hugged each other and cried.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, not knowing what else to say. It seemed to be enough as she tilted sideways against him, letting him shift his arm to wrap around her shoulders.

“That painting. He doesn’t want to leave them. You can’t see their expressions, but you can tell. He already misses them and he’s not even gone.”

He looked back up and immediately saw what she meant. The goodbye held a terrible finality that none of the figures seemed to want. But for whatever reason, had to go through with.

“How did you know I’d like these?”

Dorian laughed softly. “Something about these paintings made me think of you.”

“What was your favorite?” she asked, changing the course of the conversation away from herself. 

He looked around the room. “I love this style. The simplicity and use of color. But I think my absolute favorites are the goddess statues.”

Manon rolled her eyes, unable to hide her smile. “The naked ones.”

“They weren’t _all _naked.” Judging from her eyebrow, she didn’t believe him. “And it’s not because they’re naked,” he protested. “You have to admit the carvings were incredible. The way the marble looked like living flesh and muscle. I honestly don’t know how they did it.”

She relented. “Okay. Yes, they were beautiful.”

“You’ve never told me what exhibit is your favorite in the natural history wing.”

Pink spread across her cheeks and she quirked her mouth to keep from smiling. “The pterosaurs.”

Dorian grinned, wide and victorious. He didn’t quite know what he’d won, but it felt like a victory. Like yet another thing connecting them together. “Hmm, that’s interesting.”

She made a noise that could have been agreement and pulled him up when she stood. As they made their way back through the maze of galleries, she asked, “Do you have to get home to Hollin now?”

“No,” Dorian said. “He’s staying with a friend all weekend.” She didn’t say anything more, though he sensed she wanted to. “Why?” He pulled her closer and whispered, “Do you have more ways to celebrate my huge success?”

Laughing, she gestured to their surroundings and said, “I’ll admit, you didn’t go the route I was expecting. But that’s not what I meant.” They were outside now and she stopped to tug a wool hat over her head. Avoiding his gaze, she asked, “I thought maybe you’d like to meet my dad? Maybe have dinner?”

The way she asked it told Dorian this was something she didn’t normally do, if ever. He’d missed officially meeting Mr. Crochan last night at the bar. After berating Asterin for kidnapping him, Manon had pulled him out of the kitchen shortly before the place closed and walked him outside. Her father was busy talking to some people in the corner and he missed Dorian’s exit completely. Despite her enthusiasm about meeting up today, and knowing how much she guarded her privacy, he’d gone home feeling a little hurt. 

But that hurt was completely forgotten with her invitation. 

Her expression was a little wary, so Dorian said simply, “Yes.” This seemed new for her and he didn’t want to make her feel more uncomfortable by pulling some _I’d be honored to meet your father_ speech, even if that was exactly how he felt. But he added, “As long as he doesn’t insist on pineapple pizza.”

Her laugh rang through the air, musical and lovely. And for that moment, the crowd surrounding them disappeared. No shrieking kids, no busy sidewalks, no loud traffic. Only the two of them seemed to exist. 

Looking at him as if she sensed it too, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. When he no longer felt the softness of her lips on his skin, the moment passed and they were once again in front of a bustling city street. With hands held tight, they made their way into the crowd.

*****

Epilogue

He should have checked his bag rather than try to stuff so much into a carry-on. The couple glaring at him as he tried to dislodge it from the overhead compartment was quickly losing their patience. But Dorian just ignored them, gave a final tug, and freed his luggage. In moments he’d be seeing Manon. With his own eyes, not on a screen.

They’d only been apart for five months, but it had been the longest five months of his life.

Getting access to his trust fund and full custody of Hollin had set him back two semesters. Which was fine. Except that part way through, Manon was accepted to grad school at the University of the Wastes. A dream come true that came with a tarnished silver lining. They’d be in two different cities on opposite ends of the continent until he graduated.

Now, with Hollin settled in a good boarding school on the west coast, and his degree in hand - a degree not chained to any one location - they could finally be together.

_Finally_, he thought, patting the tiny box in his pocket.

That would have to wait though, until her family visited next month.

On the flight, he’d watched the scenery change from forested mountains to rolling, grassy plains, but it still hadn’t prepared him for what he saw when he stepped off the plane. He was struck by the immensity of the Wastes, the wind and wide open sky, the distant hills that were full of fossils. And then by her.

Manon ran to meet him and he dropped his bag. They held each other as if it had been years and they’d been oceans apart.

Lifting her off her feet, Dorian rasped, “God I missed you!”

Manon laughed, and when he put her down she wore a smile he’d never seen before, full of light and joy. “Welcome home, princeling.”

The end :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Painting: Remember, by Nicholas Roerich 1924


End file.
